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TRP: Larkin and Mishka (Deep Dive)
379. Mishka helps Larkin retrieve some things from a shipwreck. Mishka sat on the beach by himself for a while, then went up to the highest point on the island and climbed the tallest tree. He sat up there by himself for a long time, watching the sea and thinking about going swimming. Jen: Larkin spotted him coming up from the beach. She was pulling her shirt over her head; dry, because she'd taken it off before going for a dive into the wreckage. That at least she had going for herself, after losing her bird's eye in the damned wreck. Seeing Mishka, though, gave her an idea. Maybe it wasn't lost after all. She closed more of the distance, then cupped her hands and yelled up at the tree. "Hey! Hey, Haeth! Mishka!" Coyote: Mishka stuck his head out of the tree limbs and peered down. Jen: "I wanna ask you a favor!" Coyote: Mishka considered this from his perch. Then he swung himself down around a limb and skidded down the trunk, landing on the ground with a solid thump. Jen: Huh, well. That hadn't been too difficult. Larkin stopped a couple feet away and gestured in the direction of the beach. "There's something I need out of the ship but it's... " She grimaced. "I can't get to it. Figured you might have a way." Coyote: "Oh, is that so?" Mishka said, amused. "Big scary boss of the Redbirds needs help from little old me? What a turn of events." Jen: Larkin gave him a flat look. "Yeah. Go figure. You gonna help me or what?" Coyote: "Well, of course. Anything for the big scary gang boss. If I refused, you might send one of your lackeys to cut my throat in my sleep." He sauntered off in the direction she'd come from. Jen: "Alright," Larkin said with a sigh. What the fuck else had she expected. "Forget it. I don't gotta take your shit." Coyote: Mishka paused, his foot out, and stopped where he was. He gave her a confused look. Jen: "What?" She scowled. "You got any objections to that? Fuck off." Larkin gave a curt shake of her head then moved to pass him on the way to to beach. She'd just have to get the bird's eye out herself. Coyote: Aw. Mishka watched, feeling lost and oddly hurt. He sat down against a tree and wrapped his arms around his legs, brooding over this for a moment. He supposed he couldn't expect her to be friendly. She wasn't a friendly person. It always made him a bit sad, though, that she seemed to like everyone else except him. Normally, he'd just... let it go, ignore it. Walk off. He decided to try something different this time, though. "What'd I do?" he called after her. Jen: Larkin took a deep breath as she stopped and turned, expecting to see that fucker with a shitty grin on his face. To her surprise, that wasn't the case. She tilted her head at Mishka, frowning and confused. "You serious?" She asked. Coyote: Mishka hunched his shoulders and didn't say anything. This was normally where he fucked off, so he wasn't really sure what to say or do at this point. "What," he said. Jen: Larkin blinked a couple times. Thought about just walking away because clearly Haeth way having a laugh here- except, it didn't really seem like it. "Are you telling me you don't fucking hear what comes outta your mouth? Or do you think I'm so stupid I won't notice when someone talks shit to my face." She crossed her arms and waited. Coyote: Mishka brooded over this a moment, keeping his arms wrapped around his knees, watching her over the tops of his arms. Then he said, "I was trying to be friendly. That's... how I be friendly. With Hansel. And folks." Jen: "Yeah, y'know, doesn't really come across that way, does it." Coyote: "Why don't you like me?" Mishka said. Jen: Oh, he had to be kidding. Right? Larkin openened her mouth to say something but the question was so ridiculous, all she could do was flap her arms. What the fuck. "Who said I don't like you?" She finally asked. Coyote: Mishka gave her a look. Jen: "Hey, I'm not the one mocking you every fucking time we speak. The fuck do you want from me, man? I don't need that shit." Coyote: "I'm not mocking you," he said, frustrated. He'd just said that. Supposed it didn't matter, though, if it bothered her. "I'll stop." He felt really fucking uncomfortable. Like people were looking at him. He wanted to go back up into the tree and stay there a while. Then he'd go swimming in the ocean, later. Jen: Yeah, right, as if. Larkin was about to say as much but fuck, looked like it'd be rubbing salt into a wound. Seemed like he kind of... meant it? She huffed to acknowledge the offer at least and then just stood around awkwardly. Coyote: Mishka got up to go back into his tree. Jen: Larkin watched, then turned to take care of her own shit. Stopped, though, to glance back at Mishka slinking back towards his tree. God dammit. Fucking Mask. "Hey," she called after him and started to follow. "I need you to listen to me for a minute." Coyote: Mishka swung himself back into the tree, but stayed on a low branch so he could see Larkin. "What?" Jen: Larkin gave a strained sigh. This really wasn't her thing. "It's not that I don't like you," she said. "I just don't get you. Alright? You're-" she flapped an arm at him. "Look, I don't fucking care when friends talk shit to me, alright? I talk a lot'a bullshit, too. But you, you've been doing that from day one and man, we sure as fuck weren't friends back then, so please tell me, how the fuck am I supposed to know the difference? You ain't had respect for me back then, so how am I gonna know you do now?" Coyote: Mishka brooded over this some more. She had a point. "Well," he said reluctantly. "Maybe I don't like people knowing knowing how I think and feel about things. Maybe bullshit is just sort've an automatic response when I'm nervous. Or when I'm in a good mood. Or a bad mood. Or like somebody. Or hate them." Jen: Larkin blinked. "Yeah, I don't know what to make of that." Coyote: Mishka scoffed. He thought about explaining... the environment he grew up in, and how high elven politics worked, and how everything was an elaborate game there-- who you pretended to like, who you expressed affection for, who you accepted it from, what gifts you gave, to who, what they were-- and how it was easier to just detach from it, not play the game, not interact with people. Respond to everything flippantly all the time so no one knew how you really felt about anything at all, ever. Sometimes everything felt like the wrong choice to Mishka. If he was nice to someone, they might think he was manipulating them. Or someone might notice and manipulate that person against him. Or they might take it the wrong way. It was kind've easier to just not deal with it. It tied his stomach in knots. He missed being the terrifying and enigmatic pirate captain who only loved Hansel-- and he loved his crew, but he'd told himself he didn't. Mishka scuffed his bare feet on the bark. "I've always respected you. You're all... fierce, and mean, and such. I mean, I was... afraid you were going to hurt Hansel, at first, and I wouldn't be able to stop you." Jen: "Oh," she said. Yeah, that. Right. Still, though. "Are you fucking with me? 'cause you could've fried my ass any time" Coyote: "I mean, yeah. Yeah. I could probably still kick your ass right now. I mean look at me. But if I did that, y'know, your fucking uncle. What am I supposed to do next, Larkin? Huh? Create an elaborate plan to murder you, make it look like maybe you ran off in order to buy myself some time before the murder was discovered, then poison your uncle during my next meeting with him so he died slowly some days later without anyone knowing it was me? And, what, frame one of his competitors? Then after that I'd probably have to off your other family members one by one to make sure that... you know what? I've gotten off-track," Mishka said. "Point is, you're not just some punk off the street. You've got people. Hansel's safety is important." Jen: "Well, I mean I get that," she said, choosing to ignore the concerningly detailed ramblings from before. "Point is, just 'cause you think I'm a threat doesn't mean you got any respect for me. Even less so now, you see my point? You getting all flippant and in my face, that didn't really scream 'I wanna be friends'." Coyote: “Yeah, no. I get that.” Mishka shifted uncomfortably. “I get weird and shitty. I’m aware of that. Y’know, if it’s any comfort, I’m really good at faking interpersonal relationships, so... the fact I’m being awkward as fuck about saying I like you and respect you is proof I’m not fucking with you, I guess.” His skin itched like a bad sunburn, his magic crawling under his skin. He hated talking like this. He wanted to go jump in the cold ocean and then go find Hansel and curl up in his arms. Jen: "Uh. Alright." Larkin made a face, ran a hand through her hair. "Well, for what's it's worth if I didn't wanna be friends I wouldn't bothering with this here either, so... well, uh. Yeah." Coyote: "Oh," Mishka said, feeling extremely awkward but pleased. He popped his head back over the other side of the branch so he couldn't be seen and just sat there a minute, considering this. "D'you still want help getting your thing out of the ship?" he called down. "I can do that." Jen: "Sure." Larkin nodded, still stiff and awkward. "I'd appreciate that." Coyote: Mishka slid down the tree again. "What's the thing? Is it in the water?" Jen: "Yeah. It's, uh, a spying eye." She held up a hand, fingers forming a circle indicating the size. "It fell down into the hold and there's debris in the way. Can't hold my breath long enough." Coyote: -- Mishka followed her to the shipwreck. The ship had broken in two, and most of it was underwater, trapped in the rocks. Mishka chucked his boots off, and his cloak, and most of his jewelry. He thought, briefly, about how if anyone wanted to murder him, this would be a good time to do it. "You know where it's at?" Mishka said. Jen: "Kinda. It's... " She made a vague gesture at the sunken part of the ship. "The hold, uh. Towards the... stern? Is that the word?" Larkin squinted, then waved it off. "You know what I can just show you." Coyote: Mishka followed her. "If you stick close to me, I'll crack us out if we get stuck." Jen: Larkin grunted as she pulled her shirt off and dropped it on a rock. "Drowning's not on my to-do list so I like the sound of that, yeah." Coyote: She wasn’t wearing a bra under her clothes. “Hey,” Mishka said after a moment, deliberately not looking at her bare chest. As soon as he said that, he frowned and briefly wondered if he ought to not ask what he was going to ask. Jen: "What?" Coyote: “How come you don’t...?” He gestured, vaguely, at her. Jen: Larkin squinted, looked down at herself, then scowled. "Don't what?" Coyote: “Nothing. Nothing,” Mishka said. Jen: The scowl turned into a flat look as Larkin let the silence hang. Coyote: Then, unable to resist, he said, “Joan told me— I mean, I heard somewhere that if you’ve got tits, y’know, you’ve kinda gotta hold ‘em down during combat. Isn’t that uncomfortable? Having them out.” Jen: Larkin groaned and dragged a hand over her face. "Are you fucking serious?" Coyote: “Hey. Hey,” Mishka said. “I told you it was nothing. I thought, ah, I better not ask. I had that brief spark of common sense. It was there.” He finished taking off his clothes, leaving himself in his leggings, and rolled them up. If something attacked them underwater, he didn’t want to fight sharks naked. Mishka required pants. Jen: "Alright." Larkin pinched the bridge of her nose, free hand waving in the air. "Alright, so here's the deal. Listen closely 'cause I only gonna talk to you about my tits once, gotcha? So, Joan, she-" Larkin held her hands up before her chest as if cupping a pair of boobs. "She's got the volume, ya know? They get in the way. Me, though, I'm flat as a fucking table so I don't need the titty cage, understand?" Coyote: “Huh,” Mishka said. Jen: "Yeah." Coyote: “I won’t tell anyone what you just said about Joan having volume if you don’t tell anyone I asked.” Jen: "Man, if I could erase this from my memory I would." Larkin sighed. "Let's fucking- go." Coyote: Mishka snorted in amusement. He stuffed his shit into a bag and then buried it under the sand so nobody could steal it, then hopped across the boulders out to the shipwreck, balancing effortlessly on the slick rocks. Jen: Larkin waded in after him, choosing the spots between the rocks at first but changing her mind when sharp edges started to dig into her soles painfully. She followed Mishka to the gaping hole in the ship's hull, torn out of its side by the crash into a pair of large boulders. It was the obvious entrance but also the one with the biggest risk of having one's head bashed in by falling planks. Coyote: Mishka slipped into the hole carefully, making sure he disturbed the water as little as possible. If they stirred the sand on the ground, it would make it difficult to see in the salt water, and they’d have to wait hours for the silt to settle. As he passed into the ship, he paused, glancing around. Some planks nearby shifted, and a tentacle curled out of the wreckage. A piece of the ship shifted, revealing an abomination feasting on the corpse of one of the dead sailors. It seemed placid for now, but it shifted occasionally, knocking into the ship around them, which groaned dangerously. The monster might knock the ship down around them. Mishka glanced sharply at Larkin, gesturing to it to make sure she saw it. Jen: Larkin followed his gesture, then looked back at him and mouthed, kill? Coyote: Mishka glanced down at himself. No knives. He glanced at Larkin. He was absolutely certain she had at least five knives on her, because she was Larkin. You stab from behind. I draw attention, he motioned in Nighthand. He motioned with his hands, creating the small, flashy illusion of a glittery fish between his hands, and shooed it at the creature, who shifted, watching it in fascination. Jen: Larkin moved carefully to not disturb anything, silt or debris or otherwise. The phantom fish flitted away and the creature lashed out a tentacle. When it hit nothing, it moved to follow, giving Larkin the necessary room to circle into its back. There was no discernable weak spot to hit so she stabbed it center mass. Coyote: The creature shrieked, and Mishka winced as the water around them reverberated and the ship shuddered and shook. The creature whipped around to Larkin and released a cloud of ink directly in her face, blackening the water and removing visibility. Mishka let out a muffled shout of alarm, lashing out his hand to try and hold the creature. Jen: Larkin reeled back and kicked at the thing reflexively. The impact was sickeningly soft and mushy but she felt it recoil. Coyote: Mishka tried again, futilely, to grab ahold of the creature's mind. It was difficult, though, because the creature wasn't human any longer. Monsters' minds were strange and alien and Mishka couldn't control them or paralyze them the same way he could control and paralyze other people. His psychic magic always just... slid off them. In frustration, he lashed out, fighting futilely to try and hurt the thing, somehow, anyhow, instead of trying to paralyze it or dominate it. Something happened. A wave of psychic energy exploded out of him. It passed through the ship without touching it, but around him, sea creatures shrieked and died. He felt them died, their little minds snuffing out like like he'd blown a breeze over a bunch of tiny candles. The monster howled, shriveling, crumpling in on itself. Its mental energy vanished. It was dead. He felt the psychic attack hit Larkin as well. Jen: "Ow! Fuck! What the fuck!" Larkin clawed at her eyes as stars exploded in her vision and a wave of pain and nausea and disorientation washed through her head. She staggered as if pushed but nothing had touched her physically and she caught herself quickly, blinking away the spots before her eyes. Coyote: Mishka swam up, reaching through the cloud of ink to touch Larkin so he could teleport them both out. For a moment, he couldn't find her; then he heard a burst of bubbles and what sounded like muffled underwater curses, and he reached for that spot. He touched something. It felt like her ankle. Mishka snapped his fingers, and they both disappeared, then teleported onto the ruined deck of the ship. Dry land. Fresh air. Jen: Larkin coughed up some water followed by a couple drawn-out inhales. "What," she spat, "the fuck was that?" Coyote: Mishka coughed. He dragged himself up, then started wringing out his hair. "Don't know. Was trying to hold it or hurt it, and-- that happened. I think it was me. Motherfucker. Sorry. Are you okay?" Jen: "Head hurts like a motherfucker." Larkin pinched the bridge of her nose, then rubbed at her temples. Coyote: Mishka offered her one've the berries from his pouch. It was one of the goodberries Hansel made that morning to help heal people and keep them full during their shipwreck. Jen: She squinted at it for a moment before recognising what it was. She popped it into her mouth. "So is that kinda shit normal for you?" Larkin didn't think it was. Mishka usually exploded things on purpose. Coyote: Mishka shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to answer. He brooded. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to explain the thing about not having full control over his magic. Probably made him look dangerous. Jen: "That a yes?" Coyote: "Ehhh," Mishka said. Jen: "Alright," Larkin muttered. Supposed she could count herself lucky then not having been brain-fried. She leaned back on her elbows and squinted around against the sun. Maybe they shouldn't hang out on a fucking wreck. Coyote: "Sorcerers can't control their magic all the way," Mishka admitted. "It's not just a me-problem. It's a... general problem. People like Goro, they're conduits for energy. They ask their god for magic, then their god gives them the spell, and the cleric lets it flow through them. Me, I... produce the energy, and it'Jen:s inside me all the time, and I've gotta keep it in or it spills out." Mishka sat up. "It's not common though. Sorcerers just getting their first magic are impossible to control. But I'm a century old. I've got this shit on lockdown. It's just... accidents happen, sometime." Mishka rubbed his head. "'s probably not reassuring, but it's the truth." Jen: "Huh," was what Larkin had to say to that. Coyote: Well. That wasn’t that bad. Mishka flopped onto the deck and closed his eyes. The sun was warm, and he knew he probably ought to go sit in the shade before he burned, but it was very comfortable. Jen: Larkin watched him lay down. Not a bad idea, considering they'd be waiting a while for the silt to settle. Maybe the wreck wasn't the best place for a nap but eh. Larkin lay down as well. It'd be fine. END Summary: Larkin lost something valuable in the wreck of the ship and asks Mishka for help. They get into an argument over respect and sympathies and come to understand each other better. Naps happen. Category:Text Roleplay